Another fine meal in Barca

My last day in Barcelona, I took Mizz S to a quaint little cafe, 4 Gats. The cafe first opened over a hundred years ago, at the time known to be a haunt of the Barcelona art scene, and the place where Picasso had his first informal show. 4 Gats has an intimate feel, quirky and artsy- doesn't hurt that the food is damn good.

Pimientos de padron (fried sweet peppers- yes, I'm an addict) along with escalivada (a potato, onion, pepper, eggplant and tuna dish).

A recent discovery (to me!), orujo de hierbas, an herby liquor served cold and oh so yummy.

Next post: Romania!

Can I get a woot-woot!

She's here! And already drinking liquid chocolate (from this cafe, a little more Americanized with whipped cream but,,,,ok).

The digs we (ahem, I) booked through AirBnB kinda crapped out (NOT cool when you've got your luggage and paid for a taxi and one of you has traveled for 24 hours) so we re-rolled through Priceline and are staying at the swank-ish Hilton Diagonal del Mar for a couple o' nights. We've already booked our flights to Bucharest on the 9th on Romanian Air (Tarom).

...this has got to be good...

Motown Tellin' It

This is Coqueta, The Giraffe. She's at Rambla de Catalunya and El Diagonal (I do believe). 

Stop! In the name of love
Before you break my heart

Baby, baby

I'm aware of where you go

Each time you leave my door

I watch you walk down the street

Knowing your other love you'll meet

But this time before you run to her

Leaving me alone and hurt

(Think it over) After I've been good to you ?

(Think it over) After I've been sweet to you ?

Stop! In the name of love

Before you break my heart

Stop! In the name of love

Before you break my heart

Think it over

Think it over

I've known of your

Your secluded nights

I've even seen her

Maybe once or twice

But is her sweet expression

Worth more than my love and affection ?

But this time before you leave my arms

And rush off to her charms

(Think it over) Haven't I been good to you ?

(Think it over) Haven't I been sweet to you ?

Stop! In the name of love

Before you break my heart

Stop! In the name of love

Before you break my heart

Think it over

Think it over

I've tried so hard, hard to be patient

Hoping you'd stop this infatuation

But each time you are together

I'm so afraid I'll be losing you forever

Stop! In the name of love

Before you break my heart

Stop! In the name of love

Before you break my heart

Stop! In the name of love

Before you break my heart

Baby, think it over

Think it over, baby

Ooh, think it over baby...

I feel pretty, so pretty.

My first (significant) purchase, a sterling silver and red coral necklace. Made by the artist Anna Maria Viscens, I bought it at Antherea, a little boutique almost at Barceloneta. While the coral bit is pretty, the coolest part is the slide clasp.

Boozin' in Barca

I wish I'd found this place sooner, El Otro Bar, about a half mile from my digs. Definitely a locals bar, with quirky bartenders, lotsa gins, and killer music (Flaming Lips, Pixies, Ben Harper, etc).

And while I'm a vodka gal, I couldn't resist trying their Pink 47. A combo of Pink 47 gin, tonic, rinds of orange and lemon, cilantro and freshly grated nutmeg. De-lish.

Sarah, The Explorer

In my lifetime there have been very few times when I've been offered a food that I was not willing to try. In fact, I can only think of once. But first......

My lunch today was along Las Ramblas (NW of the madness south of Gran Via de les Corts Catalanes), a street lined with outdoor cafes. I sat down and ordered a plate of sweet grilled peppers, and pity upon pity, sangria was only offered in half liters. Um, ok!

The peppers weren't quite what I was expecting (which would have been more like sliced bell peppers) but this, this was much much better. You can even see the large flaked salt. So delicious. I ate every one.

As for my next dish..... In my lifetime I have tried EVERY food offered to me but one. I was 12, I lived in Denver and my grandmother's husband who is Basque offered me blood sausage. It got about 4 inches from my face before I begged off. Didn't help that my mom and her siblings were calling it "clot sausage." In Madrid I had a dark colored, cured sausage that was quite tasty. So when I saw "black pork sausage" I was up for it. Once it was set before me and I found it somewhat visually unappealing, I thought of clot sausage. But I tried it, and most certainly knew it was blood sausage. I liked it. I confirmed with the waitstaff, and wish I'd not waited over 20 years to try this.

Yo Ho Ho and a Bottle of Rum

A slight delay but.... on July 27th I ventured to Sitges, Spain. Sitges is where THE Mr. Bacardi originated before he ventured west, although it's not where Bacardi is produced. To quote one of the Bacardians, "It's not where you make your rum, it's how you make your rum." It was a quick little spiel of clever marketing before we got down to mojito business.

A member of the Bacardi family talking about aging and blah blah blah. I like to call this man "future husband." 

They take their mojito making seriously, calling for 8 mint leaves that you slap against your hand to release the flavor. I started laughing. They're serious.

Straight from the horse's mouth.

I enjoyed my mojito with eight slapped mint leaves out here.

After Casa de Bacardi, I had a couple of hours to explore Sitges and walk along the water.

Download and enlarge boys, a topless beach. 

Spaniards are so economical, these boys shared a cigarette!

A Night of Dance

At the recommendation of Martha, I went to the final showing of Dunas at Gran Teatre del Liceu. The dance was breathtakingly beautiful- a combination of flamenco and contemporary with bits of Arabic influence thrown in. Largely the story of human isolation, attempts to connect, heartbreak and redemption; by the end when they danced next to each other, the feeling of relief was palpable in the theater.

I found a 'cliffnotes' version on YouTube. While I'm generally quite reserved with emotions in public, within seconds of the first dance where they're separated by fabric, I was reaching for my handkerchief.

I didn't take my camera with me but fortunately I had my cell, which brings us this craptastic photo of the very very end of the applause (which lasted, I swear, ten minutes).

Travel Companions...

As luck would have it, when I went to the blues concert this past Sunday I met another woman on a solo holiday. And she spoke English. (Bonus!) Martha is a criminal defense attorney from Amsterdam, but we found that we had an uncanny amount of similarities. We've pal'ed around since but she's gone back home today. Travel safe, friend, and best of luck tomorrow. =)

She swears she's unphotogenic.....

So I caught her offguard over tapas and cava sangria....

It was like a scene from Sideways....my day at the vineyards.....

On the 1st I ventured on another guided tour (not a real bad option when you travel solo) to see the most prominent wine-producing region of Catalonia, Penedes. We toured three places: the Jean Leon vineyard/winery, the Torres vineyard/winery and the Freixenet cava production house. While I often make jokes about boozing, it is the rare day that I start sipping at 10 in the morning and by bubbly at 3 in the afternoon I was even starting to buy crap in the gift shop (more bubbly!).

The view from Jean Leon.

A close-up of a very good friend of mine, Ms. Syrah.

The aging room for the Cabs and Merlots of Jean Leon.

Despite a hokey as all get out multimedia presentation, the Torres winery redeemed itself with its wine/cheese pairing with a bit of education thrown in. Never again will I pair greasy and/or creamy foods with reds!

Then onto Freixenet where you not only learn about the cava (champagne) production methods, you also get to see it from top to bottom- traditional and the more modern methods too.

And cava production means you have to go underground. Further and deeper. We were 5 or 6 stories down. And in this pic the shadow makes me look like a melon head.

Relaxing Sunday at Guell Park

After yesterday's torrential downpour, the humidity was way way up today and Saturday's shut-ins were out in force. Given that Guell Park is up a substantial hill from where I am staying, and much of the 15 hectares are hill-covered I had the, sad to say not unusual, experience of sweating worse than a construction worker. Hill upon hill, followed by stair upon stair, but the view of Barcelona toward the sea was worth it.

Although this park was designed by Gaudi, much of it reminded me of the Flintstones.

But there was still classic Gaudi to behold.

Let's not forget it's an actual park with nooks and crannies (one where I came upon a man ostensibly urinating, although he was facing the walkway and vigorously shaking...sadly, my unimpressed expression was obscured by my oversize glasses), birds to make even Alfred Hitchcock blanch, and many actual beautiful flowers.

Tonight I believe I am going to head back downtown to catch a blues act, Big Mama and the Crazy Blues Band. Here's a song from YouTube, Don't Let Nobody Drag Your Spirit Down (word to my sisters, yo).

Perfect weather....

....for a lazy day.

This, just off my balcony, at a little after 4 in the afternoon.

Now it's a torrential downpour.